


sun & moon

by dragonsong (NekoAisu)



Series: FFXIV Write 2019 [18]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Other, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 11:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20873330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/dragonsong
Summary: Cradled by the glow of dusk and the halo of their magical might, he is enraptured.They are not unlike a heavenly body.





	sun & moon

**Author's Note:**

> For FFXIVWrite 2019!
> 
> Day 19 | Radiant
> 
> Tumblr post here: https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/post/187832039414/ffxivwrite-2019-prompt-19-sun-and-moon

Watching the Warrior of Light breathe aether was not on Magnai’s top hundred things to do, but by Azim were they breathtaking. They inhale and he can see the glow of magic within their rib cage surge as if they’d swallowed a star. They exhale glittering fragments of crystallized waste (“I am wont for certain types of aether, but not for others,” they explained when he had a minor freak out over the nearly ice-like flecks dissolving back into the air). It’s a strange thing to witness and yet, cradled by the glow of dusk and the halo of their magical might, he is enraptured.

They are not unlike a heavenly body.

(His Nhaama, a traitorous part of his brain likes to suggest, and what a wonder of the Dusk Mother’s grace they are.)

He ignores the mental jeers with practiced indifference. He knows what he wishes to find. A strange adventurer who fights gods and men with equal skill is not one of them. Even if they can heal him and bandage his wounds with a steady hand. And are elegant (sometimes, mostly only because they’ve been needled into it my Tataru). And beautiful.

The more Magnai thinks on it, the more he realizes his hindbrain may be on to something. Not a good or helpful something, but a something nonetheless. He decides to test his working theory one day at a time.

He never stops demanding that they swear fealty to him, or that they prostrate themself before his radiance that they may be blessed by his light, but they always laugh and tease him with too much of a twinkle in their eye to be wholly innocent.

“What would the Sun like as tribute? You see no worth in my coin or imports. All that is left to give is myself, but I suggest starting with a kiss.”

He flushed and sputters to be caught lying so openly when they ask why he tried to bully Lyse by insinuating that she would be a good prize for the Buduga when “literally all of them value consent more than they do their lives. ‘Tis a braggart’s bluff.” He does not bother to explain himself, but they ruffle his hair and ignore the absolutely livid expression they regieve at the brush of their hand over his secondary horns.

He keeps at his mission to see if they truly are his Nhaama until they appear before him with spoils throw over their shoulders and blood smeared over their mouth. The moon watches from where she sits high above as they present to kill to him and ask, “What do you see in my eyes, Magnai?”

And the way his name rolls of their tongue is nearly everything he dreamed of. The lack of a title or nickname there tells of their intent, but he barely has time to process that while his heart does a series of gymnastics with how hard it jumps within his ribs.

They said it.

“I see the sun in you,” they admit, “and I would hate to be wrong in thinking I may be your moon.”

He looks at them. Really, truly looks at them from tip to toe. Stares into their eyes.

And comes to the realization that he is utterly doomed in every which way because staring back at him in his Nhaama. He cannot force his voice above a whisper when he confirms it, a hand tracing along their cheekbones and through a splatter of blood from their night hunt, “That Azim would bless me so.”

They smile at him with too much teeth and enough adrenaline to power the entire Dotharl tribe for a fortnight. They are not a little bit terrifying but also so terribly, horribly beautiful. He has never seen someone so radiant in his entire life.

“What do we do now? Kiss? Stand a respectable distance away?”

Magnai leans in and kisses them gently on the forehead, the nose, and both cheeks. “A blessing from th—your sun. May you be ever guided by Azim.”

They flush brightly before tanking him down by the necklace and kissing him right on the lips. “A blessing for you, too. May you visit me tonight to partake in your spoils.” They pull back, deposit the entirety of their main kill by the cookfire, and leave Magnai to press his fingers to kiss lips like a spring maiden.

He stays there for a long moment before doing the next logical thing and retreating to his chambers to scream into a pillow. If that was how they would be, the courtship period would surely be a trial worthy of his title as warrior.

**Author's Note:**

> xiv tunglr | https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/  
main | https://kiriami-sama.tumblr.com/  
main | https://twitter.com/flamingacekiri


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